The Law Of Chaos
by NextHeaven
Summary: His dreams shattered, his country in ruin and pandemonium, and an angelic demon that calls himself the King of the Dead. Albel undergoes some personal revolutions and fears he did not want to come to accept. Dark, Explicit
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note**: This is my first Star Ocean fanfic so don't expect it to be anything magnificent (oh, how I wish). I'm still undecided upon the overall plot so be prepared for some U turns and the like :)

As is stated the pairing is RomeroXAlbel but this may change or others may be added depending upon how things go.

Anyways to the legal bollocks, I don't own Star Ocean as I'm sure you're already aware but this story is all mine (unless of course my hand has been possesed and some demon has written this instead!). Alright, so I'll quite babbling on and let you read it :)

**Chapter 1**

After the defeat of Luther things had finally begun to settle down and people return to their everyday, trivial lives. Trivial wasn't the word – more like pointless and insignificant, he thought.

Thank God he was finally alleviated of the tedium of those maggots in their measly spaceship. Now, he could finally put his mind to more important things. The Dragon Brigade still was missing a Captain and now that Vox was dead, who else apart from he and Waltor could take up the role? Waltor was already dodging the coffin and was obviously too old and decrepit to stand as Captain – so that only left one person: him.

Of course it was Glyphian tradition that to be a member of the Dragon Brigade, let alone become Captain, you had to go through that damnable ceremony. The ceremony that had already caused his life to shatter around him in flames many years ago. Even now, the images still haunted him like a hand which could not be shaken off, always intent on suffocating him in it's clutches. And he couldn't bare even the thought of that ceremony again, he couldn't bare the thought of another dying for him – not that he had anyone that cared for him at present, apart from that old fool Waltor of course. However, somehow he couldn't see the old man heroically and acrobatically coming to his rescue as his father had done so many years hence. It wasn't that he was afraid of dying – he welcomed it – it was the fear of what death would bring with it. What if you had to experience your most prominent memories for all eternity? What if you relived your past? That in itself was unbearable.

Albel Nox, currently Captain of the Black Brigade, damned himself, hated himself and despised himself for all his weakness. For being afraid of the inevitable, for being vicious, for being cruel, for being jealous, but most of all, for the death of the one that cared for him the most, the only one he had been able to confide in.

He grabbed at his thick, unruly hair, trying to physically shake the thoughts and regrets from his mind. That was the last thing he needed right now as he made his way through the shadowy and snow kissed courtyard. He shivered as the particles of ice clung to his bare midriff and arms, the wind accompanying them in sending his skirt flying. But he didn't care. There was only one thing on his mind.

He finally reached the King's quarters, half frozen to death. He had never become acclimatised to the weather in Airyglyph. With a trembling hand he pounded on the door. In a few seconds it swung open to reveal a petite servant girl. Immediately her expression turned to one of pure trepidation at the sight of Albel the Wicked. He didn't bother waiting for her to let him in, but pushed past her into the warmth of the castle.

"S-Sir Albel, do you require anything?" she stuttered behind him.

"I'm here to see the King, where is he?" he demanded. She looked at him with a bewildered expression.

"…The King is in his room, sleeping,"

"Oh, is he now…And he didn't tell you I was coming? What a poor excuse for a King he is after all…" Albel smirked, seeing the girl's eyes widen in shock of such things being said of her master.

"Bah, I'll find him myself, worthless scum!" he spat, turning on his heels and striding down the corridor.

Albel didn't have to search long. He had already been to the King's room on several occasions. He reached the ornate wooden door in a matter of minutes and was about to give it the pounding of it's life when it flew open.

"Albel, you're late!" the King said, concern and anger crossing his face.

"You don't expect me to come to you're every beck and call, do you?" he walked into the King's bedroom. It was a lavishly furnished room, with rich crimson carpets, beautifully carved mahogany dressers and a deep four poster bed adorned with silk and velvet sheets. As much as the King claimed he stood for justice for all, he certainly made sure he never went without his luxuries.

Albel sat down on the bed and stared menacingly at the King.

"I hope you're not forgetting about your end of the deal, Arzei?" he said sadistically. The King sighed and shook his head.

"Of course not, but you do recall I said it would take some time to promote you to Captain of the Dragon Brigade…in this way,"

"How much longer?" Albel demanded.

"Perhaps another few weeks at the most. The paperwork still needs to be sorted out. If the soldiers find out that you have become Captain of the Dragon Brigade without undertaking the Ascension of the Flames Ceremony, there will be uproar,"

Arzei was right in the end. Doing things by false means meant waiting, it meant risking ones own life, it meant doing things to please others that one would normally not do.

But, it was the only way. Before he died he wanted to leave behind his mark, he wanted to be everything his father had been and more, he wanted to finally be content with himself. Tradition, religion, beliefs, morals, in the end what were they? The things that held society together as many believed? _Or just things to confine us to a life of misery?_ Albel believed in the latter and he would do anything to oppose what he considered wrong.

"Fine…But no more than a few weeks," he mumbled eventually. The King's piercing eye's showed a glimmer of relief.

"Good. Now can we finally concentrate on _other_ matters, Albel? You have to keep up your end of the bargain too, remember?" Arzei raised an eyebrow, letting his tongue momentarily wet his lips.

Albel shot him a deceitful glance before standing up and removing the tight top that covered his chest. He let Arzei undo the tie that fastened his skirt, throwing it to the ground. Originally, the King had wanted it every day but there was no way Albel was going to consent to that. He had finally bartered it down to once a week. Once a week until the King found a bride and God knows how long that would be. Albel had despised it at first, to be used like some kind of whore, but after a while he had grown numb to it, like a wound that had become so infected it was no longer felt. Arzei wasn't too rough, he went about the deed with a desperate passion but not a forceful one. But nevertheless, Albel couldn't bury the waves of self-disgust that followed nights like these.

Tonight the King seemed to be in a more energetic mood and continued on for what seemed like hours to Albel who was pinned face down on the bed. _If this is the only way to give my life at least some hope then I shall endure it to whatever costs…_he thought as his teeth gritted with the force of Arzei driving into him. _At whatever costs…_

When it was finally over, Albel ran to the bathroom, clutching onto the toilet bowl as he was violently sick.

"Albel? Was I too vigorous for you tonight?" the King asked, not in intention to offend him but nevertheless he did.

"Fuck off!" Albel spat through gasps. He heard Arzei sigh, resigning himself to knowing it was no use trying to help him.

When Albel had finally regained his composure he dressed and left, only exchanging minimal words with the King. Outside it seemed even more baltic than it had been a few hours before. The wind had died down however, leaving only an arctic bitterness and a few light strands of snow. The air felt as if crystallized his lungs with ice every time he inhaled, scalding his throat and lips. As he passed through the training grounds where dummies and targets stood motionless like statues, he heard a sound. At first he mistook it for only a bird's whistle but then realised what bird would be out at night in this weather? He froze, his hand shooting to the hilt of his katana, the same gesture he had performed on countless occasions before he slaughter his foe. Crimson eyes scanned the blinding darkness but found no target.

"What maggot dithers around here at such a time?" he said out loud. No response. He waited, hand still ready to unsheathe his weapon. But nothing came. _Perhaps it was only my imagination…_It was true he hadn't slept in a few days, perhaps his mind was mocking him in his internal nightmare.

However, no sooner had he dismissed it, than a shrill shriek sounded. He had his sword out in an instant, ready for whatever predator lay in wait for him.

"Show yourself!" he bawled. There was a treading noise, soft footsteps upon the snow all around him. How many were there? He couldn't tell, it seemed to be coming from everywhere at once. He turned around and around but only the falling snowflakes came into his vision. There was a soft chuckle, something colder than the night brushing against his cheek. He reeled away and slashed at the air but struck nothing.

"Why are you so scared, Albel Nox?" the voice was like liquid ice, smooth and flowing like an unhindered river. A pang of fear made itself evident in his chest – _what_ could possibly know his name?

"If this is some sort of pitiful excuse for a joke, I will personally decimate the worm responsible!" he spat.

"Joke? Oh no, jokes are for those who wish for a better life, Albel,"

"Who are you?" he swiped again at the air, this time with his claw but it only produced another sadistic chuckle.

"You cannot kill me, you can't even kill yourself. Why bother trying anymore? Why bother carrying on? You only know what will await…"

"You speak rubbish, worm! If you do not give me your name now I'll make sure you are begging for death!" The dread was sweeping over Albel now – how could he face a foe he could not see? Another icy caress ran across his stomach, making him shiver violently. He bared his teeth, if he had to physically slice every inch of this air then he would do so.

"You can slash about all you want Albel, nothing will come of it," the voice mocked. Albel's mouth dropped open – now this _thing_ was reading his mind?

"Enough for tonight, I will see you in good time…in good time…" the voice blurred from existence as suddenly as it had appeared. Albel was left standing motionless, staring up at the blinking stars and falling snow, wondering what had just taken place.

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**Author's note**: if you managed to stay awake to the end then you've got more stamina than me! Anyways, let me hear the reviews - the good, the bad and the ugly.

Oh, one other thing to note, it's actually been a while since I last played SO3 and I'm not sure if Waltor is Waltor or Waltar, something I always ger mixed up upon so please correct me if I am wrong :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

The days after Albel's night time meeting with the mysterious voice passed as quickly and smoothly as he hoped. Everyday he trained from dawn till sundown or led his troops through various military exercises. At night he would return to his room, shed his clothes and fall asleep immediately to be greeted by the cold morning light and the thought that another day had to be lived.

The nightmares he had had since childhood had began to fade somewhat, although he could not tell why. He saw his father dying before him, his flesh charred and melting by the excruciating flames of the dragon. And he himself would be screaming, his face contorted in revulsion and fault, ignoring the seething pain as the fire crawled up his left arm, rendering it useless for life. The guilt had only increased tenfold after that night and he welcomed the numerous times he drifted off into a dreamless, cold unconsciousness. He had hoped that it would be the end, that he would die and be reunited with his father as the blood gushed from his arm as they crudely sawed it off. From then on, no one would see him as the same person, no one would see him as the young boy on fire with exuberance to become a great knight like his father. No one…

Albel awoke drenched in sweat. The sun hadn't even risen beyond the snow topped mountains beyond the city. He got out of bed and dressed, proceeding to the bathroom to bandage up his hair for the day. As he reached for the cloth, he caught a glimpse of himself in the small mirror. The image caused him to halt and stare at the phantom which looked back.

What had he become?

Who was he? Who was Albel the Wicked?

Even he couldn't fathom the answer from the well of his subconscious. He hadn't really known himself after the _incident_, or perhaps he had just forgotten, lost in his own self demise and revulsion. Scruffy black hair, tinged with blonde cascaded around his crimson orbs as if it acted as a permanent veil to hide his emotions from the outside world. Emotions? _Emotions do no exist anymore to me…_He was handsome, not in a masculine way, but with a certain feline beauty in the manner his long body tapered in at the waist to join with slender hips that swayed teasingly as he moved. If he didn't have anything else in the world, at least he had this body and that could be used to obtain what he desired if and when needed.

_Is that all I am? _As if in answer a faint glimmer, like a brushing of mist, tainted the mirror.

"_A beautiful body but a hollow mind…" _the words seemed to hiss from every direction.

"Who's there?" Albel demanded, spinning around but seeing no one.

"_Perhaps you are not looking close enough, Albel. Perhaps your not looking close enough at yourself, hmm?" _The voice was taunting and seemed to escape it's host's lips like a snake.

"What street scum dares to enter my private quarters!" He attempted to wipe away the sudden mist on the mirror but it stayed firm, like paint. What was going on?

"_I'm going to let you in on a little secret, Albel…Just when you believe you may be getting somewhere in this cold, caustic world, you will be smashed down, the pieces scattered beyond reach…"_

"Heh, as if I don't know that already, fool!"

"_But this time it really will be the end…"_

"Enough of your mockery, show yourself!"

"_Oh, we will meet, Albel, we will meet very soon. Remember, when we do you will be begging…" _At that something soft and cold stroked his cheek. He slapped it away but there was no evidence of any physical substance. A soft chuckle sounded around him. Albel growled, sending his metal claw into the mirror with a powerful crash, the fragments shattering like a thousand stars to be lost forever.

That night after he had finished his chores with the King, Arzei told him to stay a while longer.

"I have something to discuss with you, Albel," the King said, wrapping a velvet dressing gown around his body and sitting himself down at his desk. Albel raised a well defined eyebrow.

"I have chosen the people to act as witnesses for this _imaginary _ceremony, shall we say,"

"And who are they?"

"Waltor, a few members of the Dragon Brigade, another certain individual and myself of course,"

"Will that be enough?"

"I don't see why not, everyone has high ranks,"

"And who is this other "certain individual"?"

"Ah, you will find that out in due course,"

"That means it's someone I don't like,"

"I did not insinuate that at all, Albel. Stop jumping to such conclusions,"

"Bah, whatever. How did you manage to convince them to do it? Bribery?"

"Perhaps, but many of them to begin with are not too keen on the tradition of the Ascension of the Flame ceremony," The King offered him a slight reassuring smile.

"This little plan better work," Albel grumbled. Arzei sighed, tired of the Black Brigade Captain's continual whining.

"I am the King of Airyglyph, if I say you are to be Commander of the Dragon Brigade then you will be."

That night Albel took a stroll along the frigid streets of Airyglyph. The tall, crooked buildings provided some shelter from the all prevailing winds coming straight from the mountains. But nonetheless, Albel the Wicked was cold and couldn't help but notice the chattering of his teeth in the silence. Only a few sounds now inhabited the streets of the cold city; drunkard yells, the odd person scurrying home, the bark of a dog. It probably wasn't wise to be out so late, especially in the back streets such as he was. All manner of crime and filth lurked in the rotten doorways of the hovels and taverns in the area.

He was suddenly startled out of his senses as something collided with his legs, almost causing him to buckle over. He looked down to see a small child had crashed into him. She didn't look more than eight years old, with filthy, moth eaten rags for clothes and hair tangled beyond repair.

"Oh, help me, sir! Please…." She sobbed, clutching at his knee. He was about to kick her off when he noticed two men come careering around the corner – equally as filthy as the child.

"There you are, my pretty!" the first said through a mouth of absent teeth. The other rubbed his filthy palms together.

"Get off the kid," he said gruffly to Albel. However, the child had already chosen Albel has her protector and ran around behind him. For a moment the Black Brigade Captain was unsure as what action to take. Who would he kill first? _The two pieces of scum or the brat…hard choice…_

"Please…they will take me to the workhouse…All my friends have been taken and they've never come out!" the girl sobbed from behind him. _The workhouse, hmm? And what says she doesn't deserve such a fate? _Something nagged at the back of his mind, making him hesitant.

"Alright, nancy boy, last chance: get away from the kid or we'll slaughter you both!" Albel's eye's snapped up to the face of the ruffian.

"How dare you! Do you even know who I am, fool?" he roared. The two men were momentarily thrown off guard as they sought to put a name to the enraged figure before them.

But Albel didn't wait.

In a flash he was upon them, katana drawn in a beautifully curved arch, expertly striking the collar bone of the first ruffian. The man let out a sickening yell, making Albel grin in pleasure as the blood spurted out. The other attempted revenge, bringing down a rotten mace which didn't stand a chance against the exquisite metal of the Crimson Scourge. In a matter of the seconds the first ruffian's partner was lying decimated on the ground.

Albel stood back, admiring his work, a smug grin playing across his pallid face. _I think I'll just leave the bodies as a warning to the other scum around here…_ There was a gasp from behind him and he turned around, remembering the girl. She stood, small hands clasped into a ball on her chest.

"Sir…Thank you…" she said, her eye's wide with shock and gratitude. It was an expression Albel wasn't used to, especially since it was aimed at him. He tried to speak but couldn't quite find the right words. She smiled running up to hug his leg.

"Hmph! Get out of here before more come," he said, shaking her off. She nodded and ran off into the darkness, leaving Albel wondering what he had just done.

"_An act of mercy? I would never have expected such a thing from Albel the Wicked,"_ That bloody voice again. He didn't even bother searching the area, he knew he would find no one.

"What the fuck is it you want?" he snapped.

"_Now, now, such harsh words…I only wish to test you…"_ At that some sort of apparition shot at him from the darkness, making him yelp in surprise. Something tightened around his neck, squeezing painfully. He attempted to pry the ghostly fingers off but they had the consistency of water and he couldn't get a hold.

"_Pain is the gateway, Albel…the gateway to things you have never yet experienced,"_

"W-what…are you!" Albel spluttered.

"_I am all that you desire and all that you despise. I am the past, I am the future and I am what lies in between…"_

"Talk….sense fool!" There was a sharp blow to his stomach making him scream.

"_Learn to respect what is greater than yourself and we might just get along," _the voice whispered huskily in his ear. He squirmed but couldn't get free, the grip seemed to be tightening, making his vision blur.

"W..Why!" he managed. There was a slight chuckle.

"_Because I want you…"_

He could feel the darkness beginning to overtake him. His hearing was fading, his struggling subsiding.

"Albel!" _Another…voice?_ Suddenly the pressure on his throat was gone and he collapsed to the ground.

Footsteps approached, hands were all over him, brushing the hair from his face, shaking him. Slowly, his senses began to return, his eyes opening slowly.

"Albel, what happened? Are you alright?" A female voice. He knew that voice well, it was a voice that contained power, a voice that commanded, an intelligent voice. Probably the voice he most least disliked.

"You…" he murmured, taking in the large, concerned blue eyes, the matching sapphire hair that fell in waves down her shoulders.

She grabbed him under the arms, pulling him to his feet. He nearly fell over but she caught him, steadying him until he regained his balance.

"Maria…Why aren't you with the other fools?" he finally managed. She smiled. She wasn't dressed in her usual attire, instead she sported a plain, brown, woven dress over a white shirt, a familiar garment of this time in Airyglyph.

"Come, it's probably best we get out of here before discussing anything," she said matter-of-factly. He complied and followed her as she made her way back through the city towards the inn.

Once they were in, Albel immediately went to the fire and warmed his freezing body. Maria looked at him thought fully before taking a seat on one of the soft, expansive sofa's that adorned her room.

"So what brings you to such a miserable dump as Airyglyph?" Albel asked, still with his back to the azure haired girl.

"You, actually," she said bluntly. Albel turned briskly, his hair tails smacking against the mantle piece and dislodging several ornaments.

"And what's that suppose to mean, fool?" he hissed.

"The King summoned me here to act – no pretend – to be witness to this Assension of the Flames thing,"

"You!" his voice caught in his throat. How could Arzei ask such a worthless worm to do something as imperative as this?

"You sound surprised, Albel. You didn't think you would ever see me again, did you?"

He gapped at her before realising what he was doing and swiftly returned to his normal stoic, hard stature.

"Why should I let such insignificant matters such as _that_ occupy my mind?" he said sardonically. Maria sighed, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Is that any way to speak to one who will be helping you?" she said, raising an eyebrow.

"Huh, don't speak back to me, worm!"

"Fine, if that's the way you want it, I'll tell the King I'm not interesting in helping you," She waved a hand in the direction of the door, dismissing him. _Who does the bitch think she is? _He was just about to storm out, hopefully slamming the door of it's hinges, when a thought occurred to him. The people probably saw the useless wench as a hero for helping defeat the ignorant bunch of oversized fishes in spaceships. _Hmm…they would look up to her…that would mean I would have more chance of becoming General..._He bit his lip, inwardly contemplating what it would mean.

"Alright…I'm sorry…" he growled, not even looking at her. She turned to face him.

"You don't sound it,"

He would have liked nothing more to strangle her there and then and be done with it, but he put on his best smile – more like a sneer- and tried again.

"I'm most terrible sorry, Miss Maria Traydor," he said in his sweetest voice possible, although it pained him to do so. A grin played across her clear face and he thought she was going to laugh but she stifled it.

"Alright, Mister Nox, apology accepted," she said smugly. He shot her his worst glare.

"Will you ever change, Albel?" she sighed, shaking her head.

"Why should I?"

"Oh, forget it,"

"So, are you still going to support me?" he asked, half expecting her to have changed her mind.

"You think I would come _all_ the way here for nothing? Of course I am,"

"Hmph…thanks…" he mumbled. She pouted then turned away giggling.

"What's so funny, maggot?" he snarled.

"You, you're so stiff, can't you ever lighten up?"

"Whatever…I need to ask you a question," he fiddled with his fingers, staring at his lap.

"Oh?"

_What if she thinks me mad? That could ruin everything…But, I need to know for my own sanity…if I really am insane…_

"What is it, Albel?" she asked again.

"Did you happen to see what tried to take my life?" he asked sincerely. She looked at him puzzled for a moment.

"I thought it was the men lying on the ground, you had obviously killed them…"

"But you didn't see anything attacking me? Just answer the question!"

She was startled by the sudden desperation in his voice and leaned forward on her seat, her eyes examining his face.

"I didn't see anyone, Albel. You were already on the ground when I arrived…Is there something your not telling me?"

Albel felt a sudden and intense fear swell up inside him. If Maria hadn't seen anything…_then I must be mad…Ghosts do not exist, that's a ludicrous prospect! _So he was seeing things, and believing them. What was going on? What was happing to him? Had all the years of solitude and slaughter finally taken their toll on his mind? He stood up abruptly and went for the door.

"Albel! Wait a minute!" Maria called, but he took no notice: he had to get out of there, he had to be on his own, even if only insanity awaited.

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NextHeaven: yeah, i know this is probably the biggest pile of crap ever written, especially since i haven't dared read through and correct any mistypes. Ah, what boredom can make one do.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

That night seemed to drag on like the ocean does across the sand, forever there, ceaselessly coming back to haunt him. When the tired eyes of dawn opened across the land, Albel rose wearily. He was haunted by the flickers that raced across the corners of his eyes, through the whispers he sometimes thought he heard. But, it seemed the phantom was not there, or else he was truly mad, which he was rapidly beginning to believe as the case.

He rose to a frigid room, but not as frigid as he. He found comfort in that small fact, although what it meant eluded his understanding. Perhaps some lost self identity, some desperation to remain as his ideal although it was far from destroyed now. He dressed and proceeded to the kitchen in search of food.

When he arrived only the maids and a cooks were present, already attending to breakfast which took several hours in advance to prepare. The Black Brigade was one of the largest of the three forces of Airyglyph They didn't meet his dully blazing, ruby eyes, but bowed nonetheless. He was too tired to shout and ball at them so resigned himself to bluntly asking for what he desired.

"Get me food," Immediately they obeyed, gathering various foodstuffs together on a plate and setting it down on the table. He recognised the maid who served him, it the same naïve girl that had let him into the King's quarters that night. He grunted and grabbed the plate, examining it's contents. He watched her scurry off as he gnawed on a stale hunk of bread. The food was never great in Airyglyph, not as it was in Aquaria. Due to the harsh climates and barren, rocky land, few crops could be grown and many failed due to the extreme cold in winter. This winter had been a particularly bad one, leaving Airyglyph with hardly enough to feed its population. It was fortunate, however, that the war had ended and thus Aquaria, if asked, would help trade with Airyglyph. But, Albel scowled at the notion, they were still enemies in his eyes, albeit tolerable ones. War was what he had come to live for. Without it, what was his life? What else could he do? What else was he good for? When the war had ended he had first been frightened, ever since he was a boy there had been war, he had been brought up in war…and now…_Now there is nothing left for me to fight…Will my name fade just like the bodies of those I've slain? _Albel the Wicked – it had always been associated with slaughter and bloodlust. What would he become when he could not rule the battlefield any longer?

He was startled out of his thoughts by a hurried Black Brigade soldier.

"C-Captian!" he addressed, saluting as he did so. Albel turned to him casually, giving him his most menacing glare.

"Can't you see I'm in the middle of breakfast, fool?" he said, his voice like liquid ice. The tension was evident in the soldiers eyes as a drop of sweat rolled down his, already sweat plastered forehead.

"The King summons you, Captain…Something has been discovered…" he stammered. Albel raised an eyebrow, regarding his subordinate with curiosity.

"And that is?" he snapped. The soldier shook his head, backing away slightly.

"His Majesty refused to give me that knowledge, he just requested that I inform you immediately that he wishes to see you, Sir,"

Albel grumbled then threw down his bread and stood abruptly. The soldier scampered out of his way, knocking over several pots and pans in the process.

"Useless worm!" Albel barked as he made his exit.

What could the King possible want to see him about? Had something gone wrong with the plans? Had that blue haired bitched decided to turn traitorous against him? _If she has I'll make sure that pretty face of hers ends up as an ornament on my wall…_

With long strides he passed through the Granah Hills leading to Kirlsa. Even though the land here was barren and windswept with hardly any vegetation, it was probably the part of Airyglyph he loved the most. He breathed deeply, taking in the sea air and listening to the vicious crashing of the waves upon the jagged cliffs. He had walked this road many times. He even remembered when Kirlsa Training Facility was once the building which confined and executed thousands of criminals – and innocents. But that all ceased years ago when Arzei took the throne. Even now, Albel sometimes still believed he saw people, other than his soldiers, inside the training facility. Ghosts perhaps? But he didn't believe in such apparitions, well, not until now that was. Or, perhaps he may just have been mad all along…_it's possible…Ever since that day something changed…_That day, the day that always came back to him like a disease that could never really be shaken off. He remembered walking these roads with his father, he remembered sitting on the rocky cliffs and watching the sea, he remembered telling his dreams, although childish then, to the man he aspired to become. He remembered…and he wished he didn't.

Albel sighed, seeing the gates of Kirlsa come into view. He hoped he would not bump into that old fool Woltar, he seriously wasn't in the mood. The old man would probably try and coax him in for another one of his "chats" – basically meaning a "I worry for you're safety, Albel" mantra again. But today was his lucky day as he made his way through the old cobbled streets, there was no Woltar in sight.

Albel reached Airyglyph castle mid afternoon as the sun drew into it's prime on the clear sky. He looked up, there was little evidence of any snow clouds, perhaps today the weather would stay pleasant.

"Greetings, Sir!" the guard at the gates to the castle said, saluting him. Albel merely grunted and continued on his way. He burst incuriously into the audience chamber where the King awaited.

"You wanted to see me, your Highness?" he said, delivering the title mockingly. The King gave him a withering look and motioned for him to come closer.

"Something has been discovered in the basement of this castle," he said. Albel raised and eyebrow, crossing his arms.

"It seems like some sort of underground prison, and from what my subjects have gathered, is extremely vast,"

"You call me all the way here for something as trivial as this?" Albel lowered his head, his hair falling over his eyes, making him look even more menacing than his voice suggested.

"Trivial it may seem to you, Albel, but to the occupants of this castle it is a significant matter,"

"Why?"

"Because there have been sightings. The maids say they have heard voices, laughing,"

"They're only trying to cause a fuss, can't you see that?"

"It's not only them, Albel, my soldiers have seen it also. I sent a man down last night and he has not yet returned. I fear for the worst, that is why I sought you,"

"And what do you expect me to do about it?"

"I request you send some of you're own men down, their skills surpass the guards here. Whatever is down there, Albel, I want it dealt with,"

Albel sighed irritantly. "And what if it is no more than a meagre joke?" he said.

"I do not think that the whole complex was built as a "meagre joke", it would take far to much time and effort. What else have you got to do, anyway, Albel?"

Albel scowled at the King.

"Then I order you to send your men down and I want it done today. Tomorrow morning you can give me a report on the situation," Albel knew he couldn't argue with the King. In the end, Arzei could easily dash his hopes of becoming the new Dragon Brigade Captain, and that was far too big a risk to take. He gave the King one last contemptuous glare then turned on his heel and stormed out of the audience chamber.

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NextHeaven: Again this chapter seemed too grow to long and I'll have to leave the more exciting events for the next one (fingers crossed). Anyways, thank you for the reviews :) Please keep them comming!


	4. Chapter 4

NextHeaven: Phew, finally. Sorry this took soo long, I'm getting slowed down at the moment with life in general and iritating relatives...sigh, why does things have to be so difficult? Anyways, enough of my complaining. Thank you for the reviews and I have now set it so anonoumous reviews are now accepted (thanks for telling me, I didn't know it was still set to default). This chapter may have some (or many) typos/errors because I'm lazy and haven't been assed to proof read it (and it's 2 in the morning). But that's no excuse, ahem. I'll stop rattling on now and let you read it :)

**Chapter 4**

The next morning Albel stood in front of the King. The snow had started up again, plastering the ancient windows in a white cover. Although, early, Arzei was in his full attire, rubbing at sleep clouded eyes. He smiled at Albel, or more like grinned to be precise. Tonight was the night Albel had to spend with him and he wasn't looking forward to it. However, it would all be a long forgotten nightmare soon. It was now only a week until he was announced Captain of the Dragon Brigade. _Only a week…_Albel chuckled inwardly to himself, thinking of the power he could wield when he became commander of Airyglyph's most powerful military force. _Only a week…_

"So, your report, Captain Nox?" the King addressed him formally. Albel looked up, startled from his mental musings. Arzei probably wasn't going to favour what he was about to tell him, but it couldn't be avoided.

"My soldiers have not had sufficient time to carry out an adequate investigation of the underground complex. It appears to extend far further than you stated yesterday,"

"What?" there was alarm in the King's eye's. "I don't understand…It must extend underneath the city!"

"That would be the most logical explanation," Albel said mockingly.

"I'm not in the mood for such manner, Albel," Arzei's eyes were piercing as he resorted back to addressing the Black Brigade Captain by his first name. Albel sighed in irritation.

"I'm afraid there really is nothing more I can do other than request more time…Your Majesty…" How he resented using that title.

"How long? Has nothing been discovered at all?"

Albel shook his head slightly, "Not even a rat's dropping. The passageways go on for miles, I have been informed. I would say another week would be required,"

The King was obviously irritated and didn't try to hide it. He clenched his fist then relaxed it upon the thick, carved armrest of his throne.

"This is just what we need…" he mumbled. Albel, crossed his arms, lightly tapping his foot upon the flagstones hard enough to make an grating, inconsistent beat.

"Alright! You have you're week," Arzei finally said rubbing at his temples in pure exasperation.

A week. A week of exploration of the complex. _How can anything be so fucking immense?_ It just wasn't plausible, considering that the castle wasn't all that large. It certainly stretched further than the castle walls, venturing as he believed, underneath the city itself. But who would build such a thing? And why? Albel had only peered in briefly, not bothering to tire himself with drudging throughout the musky passageways when he could order his men to do so. But still, something nagged at the back of his mind, something that couldn't be brought forward into the waking hours of the day. As the following day's passed, things seemed to progress smoothly. He didn't see any more signs of the phantom that had seemed, not so long ago, intent on torturing him into insanity – if he wasn't already. In fact, Albel was becoming more expectant on these untimely visits from the unseen presence, that he found himself even looking longer in the mirror each day in expectance that the phantom would arise. But none such thing happened.

It was the evening before he was to be announced as Captain of the Dragon Brigade when Albel Nox began to worry. His men hadn't returned to him in almost four days. _What are the fools playing at? The can't still be down there…can they?_ They didn't have enough supplies to last four days, let alone two. They were suppose to report to him yesterday and when they hadn't he was more than furious. He gave the orders, they obeyed – he did not tolerate defiance. However, he was stuck between two important things: finding his men or preparing for his announcement as Captain of Airyglph's greatest military force. He paced around his office in the Kirlsa training facility, trying to decide upon what could be done. If he went to look for them now, he would surely miss the greatest chance of his life. He slammed his claw down on his desk, gouging deep scars into the splintering wood.

"Dammit, why does bad luck have such fucking perfect timing!" He decided to put it down to pure incompetence upon his soldier's part. They weren't the brightest of bunch, but why would they defy him so? It was a simple enough task he had assigned them, far simpler and less dangerous than many of the previous. Could it be a joke, some sort of mockery? Albel growled. _The maggots wouldn't dare…_

After hours of contemplation he decided to go against the feeling threatening to consume him mind that all was not well with the expedition, and concentrate upon the ultimate task at hand: becoming the Captain of the Dragon Brigade.

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"_Father…" Glou stopped and looked at his son. How he had grown throughout these years, he had become a handsome, strong, young man. And he was proud of him. _

"_You have nothing to fear, Albel," he said, holding onto his shoulders and looking at him in the face intently. An identical set of crimson eyes stared back at him, questioning and full of fiery excitement._

"_Do you have doubts?" Glou asked his son. The boy shook his head almost violently._

"_Of course I don't! I would never doubt what you have taught me,"_

_His father smiled at me. "I know and I believe it you. Just think what life will be like once you have passed the Ceremony," This brought a smile to the young boy's face and he nodded slowly, thoughtfully, all his great dreams passing through his head. It wasn't long now. _

"_I'm ready," he said._

_The cavern was vast, lit in a thousand shades of burning embers. A procession of soldiers followed, including Woltar, Vox and the King. Albel could smell the charcoal, the burning and the intense head made him nauseous. But he refused to show it, keeping a mask of bravery upon his face. This was his time._

_The dragon stood before him, its vermillion eyes locking onto his own. Albel stood straight and didn't falter in his gaze._

"_Albel Nox…" it said, it's voice rumbling like the sound of a mountain shaking. "What do you _want_?" was the question. Albel looked at the dragon, surprised. What kind of a question was this? _

"_What do you mean…?" he asked. Fire flickered from the dragon's mouth, laced between long, tapering fangs._

"_It is not what I mean, but what you mean. Do not try my patience, mortal!" _

_Albel knew what dragon's were like: they didn't wait for anyone, anything. It was an answer he had to give, and an answer immediately._

"_I want to become a great knight like my father. I want to fight for land, I want to win wars, I want to be looked up to as the greatest commander in Airyglyph!" he said without hesitation. That was what he wanted – to surpass his father, to be the best there ever was and would ever be. The dragon was silent for a moment before it spoke._

"_You, who wants only decay and greed, are a fool. A fool to come to me and ask for greatness. You are truly weak, Albel Nox, and you forever will be. I take it upon myself to end such a worthless, petty life such as yours…" at that the dragon reared up. Albel couldn't believe what he had heard, what had he done wrong? He saw the immense jaws opening, the scarlet flames brewing within them, readying to be projected upon him. He screamed. _

_But it was not only his scream. A deeper more masculine scream filled the cavern too. It was his father. He was thrown to the ground as, before his very eyes, he watched the flesh of his father burn and char until the body was obliterated like a glass thrown on the ground. _

"_Father!!" he screamed, reaching into the flames, trying desperately to grab hold of the one he held dearest. But it was too late, there wasn't much left of him. Albel reeled back as the flames licked at his arm, the pain searing throughout his body like burning threads of hate ._

_He would never become that great knight. He would never achieve victory. He would never be the man his father was. _

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Albel awoke with a scream. It was only just dawn and his breath flared out of his mouth in thick clouds. He could feel the sweat all over his body connecting with the freezing air, making him feel he was coated in a thin layer of ice. He shivered. That dream again. But he had never had it in such vivid detail before, apart from the few weeks after it happen. It was as if he had relieved the horror all over again. His arm ached with piercing pain. He unwrapped the bandages to see the mutilated, disfigured flesh that ended in a crude stump at his elbow. He couldn't bare to look at it, to see what he had caused. It reminded him of his father, of the way the flesh melted from his body like wax. He quickly bound the bandages back on then dressed.

His men still hadn't returned from the underground complex. Something was defiantly wrong here. But he couldn't do anything about it now, it was only a few hours until he was announced publicly as Captain of the Dragon Brigade, the position he should have achieved a long time ago. He left Kirlsa Training Facility as the sun breached the mountains. No one was out at this time, even the wind hadn't yet risen. Was it a cowardly thing to do? But how could he pass the Ascension of the Flames Ceremony? It had never been heard of for one to sit it twice, but then all those who had failed died…except for him. Why did he have to be the exception to the rule? He had welcomed death all these years, fighting ruthlessly with no care for his wellbeing. Life was meaningless. But now there was a slight glimmer of hope. Would he finally find "happiness"?_ Perhaps it's too far-fetched an ideal to consider…_.

He reached the castle at mid morning. The King was already up and waiting for him.

"Well, this is it, Albel," he said soberly.

"Where's the other witnesses?"

"They will be here in a minute,"

They waited in silence with the guards for a few moments. Albel stared at the door to the hall intently. Then finally it opened and Woltar, some high ranking soldiers from the three Brigades and Maria Traydor walked in. The King greeted them with open arms, each of them kissing the royal jewel.

"I cannot thank you all enough for attending," Arzei said. Maria gave Albel a slight smile. She was dressed in a more elaborate dress than when he had last seen her. This one was black with silver embroidery, an indication of status and power.

"Let us proceed to the square, then!" the King said joyfully as the guards prepared to escort them to the centre of the city where the crowds would be waiting.

"You could have dressed in something a bit more elaborate," the King said as they walked through the packed streets.

"What do you mean? Isn't this elaborate enough for you?" Albel snapped.

"I think, what the King is trying to say is that you never seem to wear anything other than what you have on," Albel turned to see that Maria was walking beside him, her azure hair billowing in the slight breeze.

"Who do you think you are, butting into a conversation, fool?" he snarled.

"Albel, she came all the way here for you, I do not think she deserves to be spoken to like that," the King said, giving him a glare. Albel grumbled an apology, Arzei was right: he needed to watch his mouth.

"If I was to wear anything else, the maggots of this city may forget who I was," he said indigently. The King laughed, patting a hand on his shoulder.

"I doubt becoming the Commander of the Dragon Brigade will change you, Albel,"

"Hmph, who said it would?"

"But, Albel, don't you want to change?" Maria asked softly. He turned to face her.

"Why do you imply that?"

"Nevermind, forget I said it," she pushed past him, toward the front of the escort. _What gives her the right to assume my feelings? But…how did she know…_He had always wanted to be someone he was not, and had tried for years to change, but it was counterintuitive and only dug him deeper into the "Wicked One" he had become.

They reached the square. There was raised platform, previously used for executions and hangings, where the crowds gathered around cheering and shouting at their arrival. The soldiers cleared a path, making sure the King was heavily guarded at all times. Albel felt a tinge of self-consciousness as he stepped upon the platform, seeing all the hopeful and fearful faces that looked upon him. It was by commission of the King that they all attended. _They wouldn't be here otherwise…_Did they really see him as such a wicked monster? People backed away from the platform as soon as he had reached it, afraid of the unpredictable nature of Albel the Wicked. _Fools…ignorant maggots, all they see is what they want to, always eager to condemn anyone who differs from the likes of their own…_

"Citizens of Airyglyph! I praise you all from coming this fine and glorious morning. This is a very special day indeed," Albel listened to the King rant on about what a great captain he would be, and currently was. _What bollocks…I was never great, I was never any of those things…And what difference does it make? As if those fools are going to believe a word of it. _He took at deep breath, holding in his anger at the lies being told of him. The King was nearing the final sentence, his declaration of a new captain.

"…and it is finally time for Albel Nox, son of the heroic Glou Nox, to finally take his true place as…"

"NO!!! STOP!!" They all turned to see where the voice was coming from. Someone struggled through the crowds until they reached the platform. A small, meek girl – one of the King's servants. Albel recognised her immediately: she was the one who always let him in to the King's private quarters. She always regarded him suspiciously, something dark lurking behind that innocent mask.

"I…I can't let this happen! I know that Apris will condemn me if I do not speak the truth…I know Apris will condemn us all if…if this treachery is to go on!" she shouted, tears running down her face. Albel reached for the hilt of his sword but the King gave him a warning look. In an instant Maria was upon her, trying desperately to talk reason to her. But the girl was hysterically and shook her off frantically.

"Captain Nox has never passed the Ascension of the Flames Ceremony…he's…he's been…" One of the guards went for her but she expertly dashed out of the way.

"It's all been a set up, a secret! I've heard them talking. I'm so sorry, Your Majesty…but I can't let this happen to our country…"

"Malinda, please calm down!" the King shouted. The girl frantically shook her head.

"The night I let Captain Nox in…I heard it all. Not one of them are not witnesses at all – their all being paid and given land to be here and stand false witness to a ceremony that never happened!" There were various shouts from the crowds, some cheered her on, others cursed.

"He's been sleeping with the King to get himself here!" she screamed out, tears gushing. The crowd went silent, staring at the girl, the King then Albel. In that moment, he knew nothing he or anyone else could say was going to reverse what had just been told. Malinda crumpled to the floor, sobbing and muttering "sorry" over and over again. The guards who had been escorting them turned and stared at Albel. It seemed everyone in the entire world was trying to see right into him. And he couldn't take it. A thousand hopes shattered, a thousand dreams never rebuilt. This was truly the end.

"Traitor!" a scream pierced the silence from the crowd. Seconds later it was followed by many more. Faces turned red with anger, fists balled, teeth bared. The King yelled something, startling the guards out of their stupor, who immediately tried to restrain the advancing crowds. Albel, for the first time in his life, was struck by an overwhelming feeling. It was more than fear, it was more than the thought of eternal suffering and unrest. It was disgust of what he had done, it was betrayal of his father, it was the pain of who he had become, he was the jealously he had of Vox, it was everything bad, it was everything evil. It consumed him all at once, crashing down like a tsunami upon his mind. Albel Nox had died along with his father and this was only what was left, this disgrace of a human being. The screams and shouts faded and his vision became blurring. It was as if he had stepped outside of himself, like the phantom that had haunted him. He saw the long legs moving at incredible speed, he saw the King turning, he saw Maria trying to call to him, he saw Woltar's saddened face longing for him to come back, he saw it all. He watched the crowds chasing him, the guards trying to restrain them, the world crashing down around him.

And then time resumed and he was thrown back into the body he despised. The breath was ragged in his throat, scorching at his lungs as he raced through the grimy, frigid streets of Airygylph. The shouts were gaining on him, he could feel the vibrations of thousands of feet in the cobbled streets. He had to get away, get away from this life.

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NextHeaven: Like it? Hate it? Deeespise it? Let me hear it!


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

All he saw was the blackness. He fell several times as he stumbled down the stairs and through the halls of Airyglyph castle until he reached the sanctuary he sought. The hole was in the basement, cordoned off with wooden fencing. There was no source of light coming from the oily darkness below, nothing indicating what awaited beneath. But Albel didn't care. No one would look for him here, and anyway, he might even find his men. He glanced back, brushing sweat plastered hair from his face – they had finally ceased in their pursuit of him. He had to collect his thoughts together, to figure out some logical course of action – other than to take his own life.

What could he do now? His life had once again been thrown into chaos, the pieces seemed to be shattered beyond reach. How could he repair something like this? He hadn't even gotten his life back on track from the even of his childhood. _No, this is truly it…_He couldn't go back to the Kirlsa Training Facility because his men would no doubt turn against him and as much as he was strong, he couldn't possibly defend himself against nearly a thousand heavy infantry soldiers. If he went back to Woltar's no doubt the same would occur, except the old man would end up getting hurt as well. He knew Woltar would try and protect him until the end, but that wasn't what he wanted. _I don't want anyone else dying for me…_He couldn't be seen in Airyglyph again, the citizens would stone him. He could take most of them out, but what good would that do other than make matters worse? The only option was fleeing in exile to Aquaria…but then even that had its disadvantages. Surely, rumours would spread and besides the Aquarians still despised the Glyphians. His life on this planet looked grim. He could find Maria and beg her to beam in up into her ship…but how could he ever make a life there? Their "things" were alien to him, he had no concept as to how they worked or their point.

He looked into the darkness once more. What did he feel? Something…seemed to pull him in…_as if waiting…_There was no where else to go, they would surely look for him down here sooner or later. And the only place left to run…was down…

He grabbed a torch from one of the sconces that lined the grime caked walls and thrust it into the darkness of the hole. A set of worn, stone steps were revealed in the flickering light, leading downwards into darkness. Albel didn't hesitate to descend them, following as they curved this way and that. _How deep can the earth go?_ The further he went, the more detached he felt from his current predicament.

He finally reached the bottom. The air stank of musk and damp with the continual dripping of water from a high vaulted ceiling. The air was far lighter here and several times nausea and dizziness attempted to overtake him. He saw cages, cells, the bars rusted and rotten with age. The walls were a greyish green with a thick layer of lichen and mould. How old was this place? He heard a sound, a sharp screeching of stiff metal. He froze, drawing his sword.

"Darian?" he called – the name of the leader of the group of soldiers he had ordered down. There was no reply. He grumbled to himself, perhaps it was only a breeze. _But why would there be a breeze down here?_ He kept his katana at the ready and advanced through the slippery passageway.

In the darkness, time seemed to lose it's command. How long had he passed these corridors, these rotten and withered cells? How many times had he seen the same pile of half-disintegrated bones? His torch's life was running out and the darkness seemed to be growing thicker, as if it was a being coming into life. It was then that he saw the shape moving towards him.

"Who goes there!" he shouted into the glutinous blackness. A slow moan rose, weaving it's wave through torn and ragged lips.

"Darian?!" Albel took a step back in horror. The man was merely a shell of his former self. A carcass, torn apart and leaking, with bone splintered through decaying flesh and eye's wide in some frozen horror. A hand reached out to him, a knife grasped tightly within the fist which oozed with puss. Albel's instincts immediately kicked it and he dodged a clumsy swipe at his neck. He twirled around, half slipping on the ever-damp ground, to miss a clean swipe at the corpse's head. Instead his katana lodged itself into it's back, putrid blood oozing out like sick. Albel yanked his weapon free and brought it down hard on the rotten head which split like an orange. He was splattered with stinking pieces of decomposing brain and bone, like a waterfall of decay. He watched the corpse of Darian fall to the ground without a sound and lie unmoving at his feet. What the hell had just happened? He shook his head, wiping sticky blood from his face, could this be a dream?

Or….

Could he be in hell? Perhaps this was where he was destined to end up from the very beginning. Was this his punishment? _But my whole life has been a punishment…it's the torture of waking up ever morning, of going to bed and knowing you'll arise the next day…was that not enough?_ Perhaps it was arrogant of him to think he deserved a better fate, throughout his life he had caused pain to others, he had tortured without reason, he had sacrificed innocent lives…Perhaps this was a just fate.

"Yes…perhaps…" he said aloud. His torch burned out and he dropped it to the ground, the sound echoing like a thousand cries of solitude. This place was solitude – he was alone here, alone to face all his uncertainties… He continued to stalk those sickening passageways. To be doomed to such a fate would make any moral man terrified. So why wasn't he?

"_Because you know you cannot escape…"_ That voice…That velvety, smooth voice that seemed to slide through his ears like liquid. He looked around him, but only the darkness swirled in his vision.

"Show yourself, maggot!" he growled. There came a familiar chuckle then something emerged from the darkness. It seemed to emerged from _within_ the blackness, a shape taking form from nothing. It was there and not there at the same time. He felt dizziness and the world twisted like smudged paint.

"_Gladly, it is long since due that we met,"_

A being hovered in mid air, cocooned by the darkness around it. Albel almost gasped at what he saw. At first glance he thought it a women, but the voice and broader frame gave it away. Long, silvery hair cascaded down elaborately dressed shoulders and framed a perfectly pallid, porcelain face. Deep, blood red rubies burned from the skull, complemented by a perfectly curved smile – a smile that seemed to imply and read many things. The being held a sword that danced with an array of ethereal flames, licking and scolding the darkness. Albel shook himself out of his trance, readying himself to fight.

"So you're the one who's been causing all the trouble, eh?" he snarled. The demon merely laughed dismissively.

"What kind of scum are you?" Albel hissed. The phantom regarded him with scorching eyes that seemed to analyse every inch of his body.

"You have been branded a traitor, abandoned by the people of your country and the god's themselves. You have lived a life causing only pain and suffering to others, forever condemning yourself for your failings…" The voice seemed to pry into his mind, not matter how hard he tried to shut it out.

"Enough, worm!" he shouted, readying his sword to strike. The demon merely laughed and waved a long, pure, white hand.

"Come to me my servants…" he said. Out of the darkness came a series of moans, of stagger, broken feet. Albel's eye's widened as more disfigured, dead corpses made their long, painful way towards him.

"C..C..Commander…!" they drawled in unison, reaching out desperate hands towards him. Albel stepped back in horror – so this is what had become of all his men.

"Look around you, fools! Can't you see what's happened to you?!" he shouted at them in a vain attempt to reach them.

"Hahaha…they cannot speak, they cannot think. I control them now," the demon said. Albel screamed at him in anger, striking viciously for the first corpse. It fell within an instant, writhing on the ground beneath him. But more emerged out of the shadows around him, like a congregation of the damned. They struck at him with rusting swords and ragged nails. He blocked their blows countlessly, but each time he was driven further into the darkness where the demon awaited. He decapitated several, they lurched forward, covering him in a spray of purifying flesh. A sharp slicing pain connected with his side as he felt a blade sink in. And then another on his shoulder. He could feel the warm blood running down his body, soaking his clothes and sticking to his skin. He knew he had to continue even though his strength seemed to be failing him. The last two remnants of men advanced sluggishly towards him, the first one swinging a mace down which he was swift to block. The second kicked him in the stomach, causing him to topple backwards, gasping. He dived for the legs with a wide slash of his katana. The metal seared through the flesh and bone, the corpses falling to the hard ground like trees being felled. Albel didn't wait, he was upon them, his sword coming down to split open the skulls, sending them to their final rest.

There was clapping behind him.

"Very impressive, I must say, no one as of yet has been able to defeat my servants,"

"Well, they must have been pretty pathetic fighters then…" Albel panted, wiping blood from his face. There was a bright flame of light in his eyes as the demon appeared right in front of him. Albel was sprawled back with the sudden rush of air. He grasped the ground, managing to push himself back against a wall.

"What kind of vermin are you?" he snapped. A crooked smile played across the angelic looking demon's face.

"I have many names, but you may know me as Romero, King of the Dead and servant of the God's themselves,"

"An arrogant maggot…" Albel mumbled.

"What was that?" Romero asked, flying towards the injured swordsman. Before Albel had a chance to defend himself he was lifted by the neck and pinned against the rough wall.

"You will learn to obey me for I intend to make you a special servant…" the demon chuckled menacingly.

"I…will never… serve you!" the Black Brigade Captain spat in his face, grasping at the strong hands that held vice to his throat.

"Oh, I think you will…Albel…" he whispered, tightening his grip. Using the little strength he had left, Albel dug his claw in Romero's arm. The demon immediately dropped him, clutching at his arm.

"You bitch!" he roared. Albel grabbed his katana, pulling himself into a standing position.

"Vermin such as you ought to return to the sewers in which they came!" he snarled. Romero looked at him with raging eyes.

"So, you won't comply without a fight, huh? Well…since you seem to enjoy pain, I'll make you suffer…like you've never suffered before!"

Albel watched in horror as the demon drew that, long, blazing, ethereal sword with a grin upon his ivory face. How could he ever defeat such as thing? If he had to die, he would die trying. Romero rushed towards him, hovering about a foot above the ground. Albel parried his blow, the force of that fiery sword throwing him back. He pushed off of the wall, although it felt like all his bones were shattered, dived towards the demon, his word held out in front of him. However, suddenly the demon vanished and his sword jarred of the hard ground. But something wasn't right – there were two blades. He screamed in horror as he registered the flaming sword impaled through his stomach, the pain rushing through him like an intense blaze. Then the sword was brutally yanked out and he slammed face first onto the filthy ground. He could hear the whoosh of air as the demon landed beside him, picking him up again by the neck. The agony was incredible as his body was thrown against the wall. He cried out, unable to stop the tears that spilled from his eyes. His mouth was full of blood, drowning and choking him. _This…can't be it…not yet…I thought at least…it would be a better…ending…_He felt a hand tilt his head upwards to stare into a pair of intense eyes, darker than the blood that pooled around him.

"Is this enough for you, hmm?" the demon whispered, his mouth close to Albel's ear. "I had planned on taking you ever since I first saw you only several months previous…I know you don't want an end like this, do you? Theres things you wish you could have done, wish you could have changed, is there not?" Albel looked at him closely, his eye's dropping slightly as his vision began to blur. The demon shook him, forcing him to concentrate.

"Your father would have been appalled by the way you tried to squirm you're way into the Dragon Brigade…I think you know that. That is why I am going to forgive you and give you one last chance to make thing's right,"

The world around him was fading fast, even the pain was diminishing. _Can't…be…it…_He felt so tired, all that mattered was sleep. But the demon shook him, causing the pain to strike back like a javelin of fire, making him jolt.

"Say you will serve me and I'll take you. It doesn't have to end like this," he whispered.

"Serve…you…Never..!" Albel gasped.

"Either you serve me or you vanish, never remembered in this world. All your efforts would be meaningless…you will become nothing but your worst fears, only feeling and reliving your most painful memories, is that what you wish? You must decide, you're time is running out…"

Decide? How could he make a decision like this? Living forever in a spiral of his worst nightmares, seeing his father die again and again, feeling the pain, the anger, the guilt…or…or what? Or serving this demon…what was the better fate? What did he have to live for in this life now that his hopes had been destroyed? But that wasn't what he'd wanted. He wanted to be remembered, to do something worthwhile for once in his life, to create instead of destroy. But that chance was lost now, was it not?

"I will give you another chance if you serve me…just say yes…" Romero echoed in his ear. _Another chance…?_ Albel closed his eyes. If he had one chance to correct his mistakes, should he not take it, no matter what he had to do in return? It was his ultimate fault for getting himself here. _I should never have tried to cheat the pathetic traditions of Airyglyph…what would my father think?_ He wanted so much to be a hero like the man he had looked up to, he wanted to be respected, to be admired. But perhaps he wasn't that and he never would be.

_Perhaps I went the wrong way from the start…taking the wrong path all along, only ever aspiring to be something I could never become…Another chance…Another life…to be what I wanted…to mend this fragmented chaos…_

Another chance. Another life. Another existence. Albel took one final breath.

" Yes…" he murmured as his consciousness finally faded.

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NextHeaven: heh, well I'm glad I never had to go through any of that! The next chapter my be somewhat delayed as I'm being bogged down with uni work at the moment, but hopefully I should get it finished sometime at the end of the week. Anways, let me know what you think, and thank you, always, for the reviews :)


	6. Chapter 6

**NextHeaven**: here we are, another...tedious chapter (sigh), doesn't it just make you want to end it all? But ah well, life is life I guess and I'm on the rambling road again. Yeah, so a bit later than it was due, but nevertheless here it is. Please let me know what you think and make my sad day lol. Nah, but I do appreciate your comments :) Dunno when the next chapter will be up as I haven't started it yet, but hopefully I won't put it off for too long :)

**Chapter 6**

_A life rebuilt form time's calls…_

_A darkened sky where angels fall…_

_Fingertips of time's past cries…_

_Fading into nothing but lullabies…_

There was softness underneath his fingertips, an eager down of feathers caressing his hands. A crimson eye opened into the light of a thousand falling souls. Falling like snowflakes on a winter's day. He slowly curled slender fingers, grasping onto the soft cushions and furs which lay around him, a confirmation that this was not a dream. But then again, dreams and reality had become so confused, how could they ever be told apart? They were mixed, mingling, like beads scattered into the air, forever falling to land in different places, differing things…He saw shimmering liquid, as dark as oil but as clear as glass, sparkling with infused energy. Trying to collect his thoughts, he found that he failed. Where was he? Some sort of gazebo towered over him, made entirely of a transparent substance, showing the falling of the millions of snowflakes of light. Snowflakes of light against a jet black sky – a sky with no moon, no sun, nothing but the falling light. _Could this be…hell…or even heaven? _He sat up, realising his clothes were gone. The expected pain from his injuries never came and looking down at himself he found they had vanished, his skin as unblemished as the day he was born. Even his scars had faded.

_Am I even the same person I was before? And why isn't that maggot, Romero, here? He dumps me in this place and just goes off…? The bastard! _

Albel rose to his feet unsteadily. He felt lighter, more supple. It was an odd feeling, as if all the weight of life had been lifted, the weight of his physical matter was gone. He walked to the edge of the gazebo and stared into the dark waters. There was nothing beyond but an eternal stretch of darkness electrified by the odd shimmering currents. There was no way out of here, no sign of any boat of bridge, and he certainly didn't want to chance swimming in the strange, dark liquid. He turned his head to the sky, if that was what it even was, and saw nothing but that continuous flow of light particles. There weren't even any clouds or landmarks. It seemed as if he was in a completely different realm, a completely different time and reality.

Nowhere to go and no way to know where he was, he threw himself back into the soft cushions and rugs in frustration. How could this happen? But again, he realised he had no one to blame but himself for saying "yes" to the demon. Romero had promised him another chance, but where was he now? Just like everyone else – he abandoned Albel. And now, here, alone, what could he do? He thought of Airyglyph, of Woltar, of the King, of Maria, of all the enraged faces at the square. He remembered his time in pursuit of Luther, the madman, he remembered the countless battles and planets he had travelled to with Fayt. He remembered…but that was all. Now Airyglyph and all its people would be free of him, free of Albel the Wicked. _So I truly failed…in everything I have done...and this is what it has come to…_He didn't even have a sword to defend himself or clothes to conceal his body. He was truly alone and vulnerable with no escape. In solitude, Albel shed the tears that had been accumulating inside of him for years, their barrier finally broken.

Romero watched as his most prized possession broke down in tears. The swordsman hadn't noticed the King of the Dead watching him, but then how could he, when Romero was invisible? A slow smile crept to his lips – the man was even more beautiful when he wept, his crimson eyes even brighter from tears and his perpetual sneer finally absent from his perfect face. It was hard to tell that Albel was anything other than a lost child, alone in the world. Looking at him now, it seemed impossible to believe he had taken countless lives and caused more suffering and pain than an army.

Romero flew down and gracefully landed in the glass gazebo. The swordsman had buried his head in the cushions and wasn't aware of his presence. The demon slowly approached, silent and as agile as a cat. Albel's shoulders trembled and he clutched at his thick, two-toned hair, as if trying to rip it out in frustration. Romero was fascinated by this display of emotion, it made him wonder if he had ever felt such feelings. When was the last time _he_ cried? To be honest, he didn't think he ever had. It was said that only mortals could cry, emotions were not the realm of the God's. But nevertheless, he had been compelled to take the man ever since he first saw him, surely that must say something? Then again, Romero, wasn't a true God, as of yet anyway – he was what could be seen as an avatar, a lower God, servant to those higher up.

He knelt down silently to stare at the young man before him, reaching out a hand to touch the slender shoulders. Immediately Albel spun around, his hair tails almost whacking Romero in the face. His expression was one of rage, contempt and utter hopelessness.

"You…!" he breathed. The King of the Dead stepped back form him, avoiding the lethal slash of his clawed arm.

"You cannot fight me, Albel, you might as well not bother trying," he said calmly. The swordsman wiped the tears from his face and stood up, facing the demon. Romero couldn't help but graze his eyes over the pale, slender body. The man was certainly stunning, he could do a lot with him. Albel quickly grabbed up a sheet, clutching it tightly around his waist.

"Where am I?! What the fuck did you do to me?!" he bawled.

The King of the Dead sighed – this wasn't going to be easy. "It is simple, I killed you, don't you recall?"

"…I…" Albel faltered, his face tensing in the memory. "Why am I here then? Is this suppose to be hell?" the sarcasm had returned to his voice.

"Are you not impressed? And if you believed you would go to hell, then you are erroneous. As it so happens, compare to contrary beliefs you mortals share, there is no heaven or hell,"

The swordsman's eyes widened in shock. "Well, are you going to tell me what there is then, fool?" he snapped.

"There is here and there is nothing beyond. There is only what you see and that is dependent on you," Romero offered him a knowing smirk. However, it didn't satisfy Albel. He clenched his fist into a ball, his crimson orbs blazing.

"Cut the riddles, I'm not a little girl in a fairy tale! Get to the point on how I exit this place!"

Romero laughed, the man really had no idea. "Exit this place? And where would you go, Albel? Do you not remember your acceptance of my offer? You belong to me now, you are my servant…"

"I belong to no one, maggot!" Albel roared. "Let me out of here or I'll see to it that you suffer beyond any state of agony you can imagine!"

"Haha, you cannot hurt something which does not exist. However…you need to learn to show some respect, after all, I saved you from your inevitable fate," Albel bared his teeth, diving towards him in one swift move. His gauntleted fist connected with Romero's chest in a vain attempt to knock him down. The demon blocked his blows, striking out with one strong arm to send the lithe man sprawling onto the ground. Albel winced in pain, before jumping back up, arms and legs flailing in any possible attempt to inflict damage upon the demon.

Romero laughed sardonically, it was rather amusing watching Albel throw a tantrum, perhaps he would induce it more often.

"You fucking bastard!" the swordsman screamed, his fist heading directly for Romero's face. The demon grabbed his wrists tightly, forcing his arms back. Albel struggled as best his could but Romero's strength was that of a near God, and his only that of a mortal – and a dead one at that. He did the only thing that he could do in defiance; he spat in the demon's face.

For a second, an inferno of rage flashed before Romero's eyes and he slapped the swordsman hard across the face, throwing him back to the ground. Before Albel could resume his attack, the demon came down swiftly upon him, leaning over and pinning his arms to the ground.

"Why do you still persist to defy me?" he said, his voice coming out low and menacing. Albel struggled beneath him, trying to wriggle his body free.

"Let go of me, fool!" he spat. Another slap landed on his face, making him scream out.

"Sewer scum!"

Another slap.

"Get off, you bastard!"

And another.

This time he could take no more. His body was on fire with pain from the heavy weight of Romero bearing down on him and the perpetual beatings. He stopped resisting, his curses dying down to soft whimpers as he lay trembling beneath his tormentor.

Romero acknowledged that the swordsman wasn't resisting anymore and ceased his assault. He stared down at Albel's face, which was contorted in pain, frustration and anger.

"It won't be so bad…" he whispered, all the venom and punishment gone from it. Albel refused to look at him, twisting his head as far away as he could get. The demon grabbed his chin, forcing him to stare into his eyes.

"Where would you go if I hadn't taken you, Albel? What would you do with your country against you?" He brushed some strands of raven hair from the swordsman's pallid face so he could gaze directly into those turbulent crimson orbs. Even in death they burned with the passion of life, a passion even Albel himself, didn't realise he possessed.

"I don't know…" his voice was weak, barely even a whisper. Romero smiled, his silvery hair falling around his face like a moonlit waterfall. He stroked the swordsman's cheek, feeling the thick, yet soft locks of hair that so unruly inhabited his head.

"What are you doing?" Albel asked suspiciously, his eyes darting from Romero's hand to his face.

"Hmm…you know I am glad that I picked you…you're perfect…" the demon hummed softly. Albel attempted to struggle again, resisting with the small amount of strength he had left.

"I thought we had come to an understanding, Albel? Have you not realised there is little point in resisting?"

"Get your filthy hands off me!" he snarled. Romero only laughed.

"Get it into your head…you serve me now and I will do as I wish with you…" At that the demon ripped off the thin sheet covering Albel's lower regions. The young man yelped, his eyes expanding into deep pits of horror. He struggled ferociously, kicking his legs to dislodge the weight of the demon. Romero merely shifted his position, entrapping Albel in a tangle of limbs.

"I would have thought you wouldn't mind…after all, you give your body so freely to those you couldn't care less of, if they offer you power…" the demon mocked, his voice like sharp velvet.

"How dare you, scum! At least I don't take people by force!" he screamed as Romero yanked his legs wide apart.

"I'm not taking you by force…this is what you wanted when you agreed to come with me," the demon whispered in his ear.

"I will never want this, you perverted ghost!" The word ghost really hit Romero's button. He was far higher than a mere "ghost" – why would this mortal refuse to learn? He ran a long hand down Albel's chest and stomach, making sure the nails dug satisfying into the flesh. Albel screamed as the long sharp nails finally ended just above his crotch.

"I can guarantee than you will," Romero said with a slight twist of a smile. At that he jumped effortlessly into the air, finally releasing the now exhausted Albel. The swordsman attempted to rise but failed, collapsing back into the soft cushions and furs.

"We'll finish this later…don't do anything naughty, alright?" the demon said with a wink, a wiry smile upon his thin lips.

"You…!" before Albel could finish the demon had vanished just as suddenly as he had come.

He again attempted to stand, now determined more than anything to escape from this hell, but again his body failed him. When he collapsed for the second time, his eyes refused to remain open. For some reason those cushions felt so good, compared with the pain he had so recently suffer. So this was what Romero planned to do to him? Was he doomed to an eternity of...being a whore, being used? _No…I will do more…there must be more…_The pain and shock were too much and he felt his body begin to shut down, his eyes resisting all attempts to remain open. He would find a way out…he would do something…after he slept…


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

"_Albel…?"_

_Abel?_

"_That's your name, is it not?"_

…_.Yes…_

"_Can you hear me…?"_

…

"_I take it that you can…I'm glad of that…I…I was really getting worried…"_

_Worried? _

"_Yeah…I do worry, y'know. I'm not as cold hearted as they say…like you, I want to change…"_

…_Who are you?_

"_You've forgotten me? Does death really overpower your memories of reality?"_

_What are you saying, fool?_

"_Heh…at least you're the same old Albel, I was afraid you may have changed,"_

_Didn't you want me to change?_

"_No…No, Albel. I know _you _want to change though…It's obvious in the way you try to hide it. But…the thing is…you wouldn't be the same Albel if you were to change, would you?"_

…

"_It's strange that we're talking like this…I still can't get over it. I guess…I've been waiting to talk to you properly for ages, funny isn't it?"_

_That you get to talk to me when I'm dead?_

"_Yeah, but you're not are you? I mean, if you were truly gone would you have consciousness? Would you be able to respond to me now? I know…that a part of you still exists…"_

_The worst part._

"_No, the essential part – the part that makes you who you are. Remember that…whatever you are told…"_

…_It's the part I've always hated about myself…_

"…_It's the part I've always loved about you…"_

There was a faint twinkling sound, the kind of sound you could imagine the sun making as it hit the waves. He awoke slowly, seeing the intricate patterns embroidered onto the soft cushions beneath his head. Yes, it all came back to him.

But he wasn't surprised. He wasn't frightened.

He traced a line with his eyes to the source of sound and found a pair of silver wind chimes hanging from the gazebo ceiling, above him. Surely, they had not been there before…

He rose to his feet, feeling the strength back in his body. Around the glass gazebo the velvety waters rippled slowly as if snoring in a deep slumber. He made his way cautiously to the edge and stared out across the vast, endless sea of darkness.

No land, no signs, nothing…Was this gazebo all that existed in this realm? He turned the other way, again scanning for any sign of land or a place beyond.

But there was none. There was nothing but _here_.

He would not resign himself to this place forever, there had to be more. This was the land of the dead, or something, wasn't it? Perhaps there was some sort of magical doorway? He chuckled at his own naivety, who knew what forces governed this place?

But, then again, what did he have to lose?

Without further thinking he dived head first into the dark waters.

Darkness swirled around him, ebbing with the vast cacophony of dying souls. It didn't feel like water, or any kind of liquid at that, but like feathers and wind brushing across his skin. He clawed at it with his hands, trying desperatly to pull himself up for air.

But something wouldn't let him go. He was being sucked deeper into the sea, the feeling of a thousand fingers trailing over his skin, drawing him deeper, pulling him faster. He tried to scream but only black feathers filled his mouth. Could he die twice?

_Impossible…_

Suddenly he was in another place. A vast plain, not even a hint of any vegetation or wilderness. The sky above was a vortex of purples, blacks and greys, swirling forever in a never dying tornado. The place was as endless as the sea had been, no hint of anything on the encircling horizon.

Nothing…

Albel shivered, still naked from the gazebo. He wished he had something to cover himself, to give him at least one spec of dignity…but even that was denied him. It was then he heard a familiar noise. A groaning…a shuffling of feet. He spun around and was faced with what he feared: Romero's speechless servants. With no armour or weapons the only thing left to him was retreat. He turned, readying himself to flee but stopped, horrified in his tracks.

More servants were behind him. Not just more, but thousands, millions, stretching on beyond the horizon. _What the…_He turned back and saw masses more all around him, as if they had just materialized from the nothingness that saturated the place.

He was surrounded, unable to run anywhere, unable to hide. Panic overtook him, it reminded him of the panic he had felt when he saw the crowds faces turn on him with anger. The panic, the fear, the dread, washing over him again, unable to escape.

They shuffled towards him, hands reaching for his body, clawing over him, grabbing his limbs, pulling him. He screamed, desperately trying to shake them off but every inch of light was quickly being taken over by hands, fingers, arms. He fell to his knees, covering his face with his hands and curling into the smallest ball he could manage. He felt the cold flesh on his back, his shoulders, his legs, his arms, everywhere. Pulling at his hair, trying to yank him open, but he held with all his strength, screwing his eyes shut tight and trying to barricade himself from the horror that surrounded him.

"How pitiful you look now…" suddenly the demented groans and shuffling stopped and a single velvety smooth voice wove its way to his ear. Two silky hands made their way under his chin, lifting his head up to stare into two deep and mocking eyes.

"You...again…" Albel breathed, still trembling. The demon pouted, looking at him with concern spread across his milky white face.

"Poor Albel, you're shaking like a baby," he said, a smile tainting the corners of his mouth. The swordsman glared at him. He wanted to fight him, he wanted to see his tormentor writhe in pain; he wanted revenge. But he couldn't fight, he couldn't do anything in his current condition. Romero seemed to know this and was finding it quite amusing by the twisted look on his face.

"Get…it over with, fool! Don't make…me wait any longer…" the swordsman spat. Romero regarded him with curiosity.

"Get what over with?" he asked.

"Whatever you plan to do to me, you sick bastard!" The demon seemed taken aback with surprise, opening his mouth in mock imitation of shock.

"Surely you're expectation of me isn't _that_ low, is it?"

"…It's lower than you can imagine…" Albel snarled beneath his breath. The demon sighed then lent down and gently but firmly swept up the lithe man into his arms. Albel tried to struggled but gave up, knowing there was no point, what good could his little strength do against that of a demon? Romero leapt into the air, miraculously suspended without any wings or source of flying. He flew upwards, holding Albel tightly against his chest. The sudden nausea of gaining such a vast amount of altitude in only a few seconds made the swordsman dizzy. Through the curtain of ebony hair he saw the land beneath disappear quickly at an alarming rate. The cold air hit him, freezing him to the marrow of his bones. He gasped, trying to suck in air but it seemed none existed wherever Romero was flying. The last thing he saw was a twisting tower lit with blue flames rising from the horizon before he lost consciousness in Romero's arms.

"_Albel…just hang on…"_

_You again…_

"_As bad as things seem, they can always be changed,"_

_That's a hope for the weak, to make people feel that they aren't alone anymore._

"_No its not!"_

_Of course it is, fool._

"_I won't give up on you…"_

His head hurt. It _really_ hurt. It felt as if he had been rammed into a wall several hundred times. He moved his leg muscles, feeling the weight of sheets upon them. Slowly, his eyes opened and begun to adjust to the dark, dimly lit surroundings.

He lay on a lavish bed, the sheets made of fine silks in Romero's signature colours of crimson, black and purple. The flicker of candles teased the shadows, changing the appearance of the walls as if they were fluid like the flames themselves. Albel strained his neck to look at the ceiling and noticed stars above. They flickered, dimming, fading, new ones appearing in a never ending cycle of pin pricks of light. It was then he noticed a pressure on his shoulders. Instinctively his hands reached up and met with cool, smooth arms wrapped around him. Immediately he rolled out of their reach, suddenly alert and sitting up. The demon mumbled as he was woken from his slumber and rubbed his eyes, blinking blearily at his captive.

"Oh, I see you have awoken…I must have just dropped of myself waiting for you," he said moving towards the swordsman.

"Don't you dare lay you're filthy hands on me EVER again!" Albel snapped. Before he attempted to leap off the bed away from the approaching Romero, but his foot caught in the sheets, sending him sprawling like an idiot. Romero gracefully moved himself to straddle Albel's back, pinning his arms to the bed. After a series of curses and failed attempts to throw the demon off, the swordsman lay still, trying to catch his breath.

"Why do you still persist to struggle? Do you not realise that it is futile?"

"Why do you keep asking, maggot?"

"And what have I told you about calling me _that_?" Romero dug his nee into Albel's back making him yell out in pain. The demon chuckled, it was going to take more than punishment to tame this shrew.

"I heard you talking in your sleep…Do you still dream?" he asked the man beneath him.

"None of your business…fool…"

Romero gritted his teeth, roughly flipping the man over so he faced him.

"Why are we so bitter? Do you still resent your death?"

Albel opened his mouth to speak but his mind halted the words. Did he resent his death? _What would have happened if I hadn't died…I would have lived in humiliation and exile for the rest of my years…Probably hunted by supporters of Airyglyph…_

"And what kind of a life would that be, hmm?" Romero asked in conclusion to his thoughts. The swordsman stared up at him intently this time, looking deep into those parallel eyes, seeing for the first time the intangible past of an immortal being. He didn't know how to reply, he didn't know what to say, what to do, how to react.

He didn't know anything anymore.

The silver haired demon ran a long slender hand over his pallid cheekbone. Albel tensed at the touch. He wanted to struggle, to do whatever he could to throw Romero off but he couldn't, it was as if the demon had some unearthly power over his body. All he could do was stare unblinkingly into those enchanting crimson orbs.

The demon smiled.

It was unexpected and he didn't see it coming. Romero deftly lent down and took his lips in his own, still staring into the swordsman's eyes. Albel's senses returned to him like a mountain smacking him in the face and he attempted to resist the persistent tongue that pried between his lips. However, Romero's grasp tightened, pinning him even harder to the bed, determined to not let him escape. The demon's hands were all over his body now, feeling their way along his ribs and lingering over his nipples.

_What…what is this…!? _Albel stopped struggling as he noticed he was only pushing himself closer to Romero's body, grinding up against the muscular, toned torso and hips. He didn't know why he did it, but he opened his mouth, finally letting the demon's piercing tongue slither inside. Romero wasn't lenient in his exploration of the hot, wet, cavern, he touched every inch of Albel's mouth, paying particular attention to his tongue in a teasing and violating way. It took only a few moments for his mouth to be ravished by the demon before he abruptly withdrew and stared down at the bewildered swordsman.

Albel didn't know what to say or how to act. He didn't know how to assess the feelings that appeared to be infiltrating his mind. Romero was so strikingly beautiful, more like an angel than a demon with his milky hair falling like strands of moonlight all around them. Only one thought, one question seemed graspable within that swirling maelstrom of emotions.

"Well, now that you've got the kissing over with, what do you plan to do next?" he said sarcastically.

Romero just smiled.

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NextHeaven: oh i've fallen asleep. Review :)


	8. Chapter 8

NextHeaven: at last I have completed this chapter - I could aliken it to running a marathon. Just finished it and it hasn't been proof read so expect a lot of mindless errors and typos (my apologies in advance). Anyway, thank you for the review from the previous chapters and I hope to see some more - even insane nutters like me need inspiration. Albeit the typos, I hope this chapter proves to be somewhat interesting :)

**Chapter 8**

Romero chuckled sardonically as Albel lay beneath him, a feral look upon his face. He knew he had the man under his control, physically anyway. He leant down briefly, staring into his captive's eyes, lightly brushing his lips over the pale skin of his cheek before suddenly pulling away and jumping off the bed.

Albel looked up in bewilderment, seeing the silver haired demon make his way over to a large, marble wardrobe.

"Put this on," he said, fishing out a similar robe to his own, albeit less ornate. Albel looked at the garment thrown across the bed and wondered just what the demi-god was playing at.

"Would you be so kind to tell me just what is going on?" he snapped acidly.

"Just put it on, you'll see shortly," Romero touched the wall and it seemed to dematerialize into wisps of air rushing outwards, revealing and doorway into what seemed to be pitch darkness. Albel wanted to ask questions, yet he had come accustomed to them not being answered so he reasoned there was little point. He sighed inwardly, grabbing the robes and tying them around his slender waist.

The demon beckoned him towards the door with a thin line of a smirk playing across his face. The swordsman looked at him warily as he walked slowly closer.

"Do not fear, I won't hurt you," Romero purred as if coaxing a child into taking poison.

"Hurt me? And as if you haven't done enough of that already,"

"I cannot kill you. You're already dead after all,"

"Then why do I still hurt?"

The King of the Dead chuckled a velvety laugh, looking Albel in the eyes with pity.

"Because you do not believe yourself that you are dead,"

"What nonsense, maggot!"

"Believe it or not, it is the truth," Romero stated finally. He walked over to the angry young man and grabbed him by the arm, pulling over towards the doorway.

"Get of me! What do you think you're doing?!" Albel flailed out with his free arm but it made no use, only hindered him by putting him off balance.

"Be quite and co-operate!" the demon snapped, shoving him through the doorway.

For a moment Albel lost all sense of movement and gravity. It was as if he didn't exist, as if his whole being was lost in an eternity of continuous nothingness. There was no pain, no pleasure, no thoughts, no time, no perception. It was only when he found himself standing on the hillside beside the Airyglyph Aqueducts overlooking the city he once knew as his home, that Albel began to realise the full extent of Romero's power. The demon could transport him through time, through worlds, how was it possible? Gods had never featured much in Albel's life except as a topic for crude jokes, but now, faced with the realised that he now stood before one finally made him realise how incredibly insignificant himself and his whole life was in the scheme of things. Romero, forever ingeniously reading his mind, smiled at the inner crisis the bewildered swordsman was suffering.

"Albel my dear, do not ponder upon such complex matters," he said flatly, staring out at the dismal, snow laden city before them.

"Why did you bring me here?" Albel said quietly, not willing to stare Romero in the face.

The demon sighed. "I want you to look at your world, I want you to see,"

"See what? Poverty? Decay? Misery? War? What else is there?" he spat, the sarcasm lacing his voice once again. Romero looked at him, his blood red orbs filled with sorrow.

"You see more than any mortal, you see the unhappiness of the world, perhaps even understand it…" he paused a moment as if his mind was distracted. "But what of happiness, Albel? What of love?"

The swordsman scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "Happiness? It never lasts. As for love, as I said before, it's just another joke to subdue the masses,"

"So why would people bother to live if such a thing were true?"

"I…" he trailed off, unsure how to tackle the question. Romero seemed satisfied however and took his hand, leading him down into the city.

"Are you crazy, fool? They'll see me!"

Romero laughed, shaking his head. "You're dead! Get it etched in your brain,"

Still panicking, Albel had no choice but to obey as the demon dragged him towards the streets. His fears were diminished however when they came across a group of children playing in the snow, not one of them glancing as the two men passed by, Romero even admiring the snow castle they built.

"You see, Albel, no one can see you. You exist beyond this realm, beyond life," the demon said once they continued on.

It was no long before they reached their inevitable destination, or more like Romero's inevitable destination: Airyglyph Castle. Albel felt a shudder jolt his body as they wandered into the courtyard. It brought back memories he wished not to be remembered. Thing were as they normally were, except for one thing. There were a bunch of guards surrounding the main doors. He didn't recognise any of the usual sentries that stood guard; these men were from the Storm Brigade. His senses now alert to something being not quite right, Albel now saw the dead bodies lying scattered throughout the courtyard, half concealed by snow. It looked like the aftermath of a battle, but why here, in Airyglyph Castle? Looking further he saw the windows had their iron and steel shutters down, impetrateable to any forms of weaponary (apart from laser beams and the like).

The demon led the confused Albel onwards, through the detritus and corpses until they reached the heavily guarded door.

"You may not like what we find inside…" Romero said, releasing his hand from Albel's before gesturing forth with one pale hand. The swordsman looked up at him, an eyebrow raised.

"Walk forth. Do not fear, I shall be close behind,"

_Walk forth? Does the crazy maggot want me to walking into the door or something? _

"Through the door, Albel," Romero corrected. _Bastard…forever reading my mind…_

"And I don't appreciate being called "bastard" either. You will pay for that later," the demon said, giving him a feral smile. Albel didn't think anymore, he didn't want Romero reading his every thought. He had to figure out some way to prevent it, to somehow mentally block the demon's prying. He scowled and walked forward, feeling like the biggest idiot ever. He clenched his teeth as he came to the thick studded metal wood of the main doors; smacking into these was going to hurt. But did he have any other choice? Romero loomed behind him, his hot breath making the hairs stand on his neck.

And then…_In the name of Apris! _

"So we do believe in God's after all, hmm?" Romero mocked as they now stood in the main hallway of Airyglyph Castle. Albel glanced around him, the place seemed deserted just as the courtyard had. Where was everyone? Normally there would be scholars bustling around, maids scurrying to chores, knights joking and marching to duties…but there was only silence. Albel didn't need Romero's ques anymore, he rushed up the stairs to where the King sat upon his throne.

His fears were confirmed when he saw Arzei was not upon it. Nor were any of his loyal servants or advisors present. Something was deathly wrong here.

"What the hells going on?! You've got something to do with it, haven't you, maggot?!" he yelled at the demon who had reached the top of the stairs. The King of the Dead only frowned at him and shook his head. Albel was about to drill him more when there was a loud smashing sound. He heard it coming behind his head and ducked out of the way just in time to see a large rock hurtle past and fall over the balcony. He was at the window in a second, staring down into the faces of a mob of filthy, angry citizens.

"Which one of you sewer scum did this!?" his screamed, leaning out the now glassless window. But none of them even noticed, none of them heard his voice, none of them saw the rage upon his face. He was pulled back into the room by Romero.

"Albel, since they found out about your…scandal with the King, the people of Ariyglyph have turned against their ruler. Those who have not been stoned to death have fled from the castle or else joined the mob you see outside," he said plainly, staring the swordsman intently in the eye as if searching for an indication of something.

"….The King…?" was all that Albel could say.

"He is in the secret room adjoining his chambers…however…" he didn't get to finish the sentence for the loud crashing and shouts that came from the ground floor. Albel rushed to the balcony to see a mass of hooligans had burst into the castle, obviously having defeating the remaining guards. He knew there was no point in shouting or attacking them – what good could he do when he didn't exist anymore? Within seconds they had stormed and crowded the lower floor and were making their way up towards the second. The noise was incredible with shouts of abuse and obscenity echoing through the ancient stone walls of the castle that had stood for centuries. Albel pushed passed Romero towards the door to Arzei's chambers. It was locked, but that didn't prove a problem since he now had the new ability of walking through matter.

Things were highly out of place within the King's room. The bed was in disarray, sheets torn and lying scattered like dirty flaps of dead skin. Lamps were broken, books lying open, pages torn, it was as if the place had already been raided. He heard the mob rushing up the stairs, hammering at the door. He knew where the secret room was, it was beyond the mirror in the bathroom. A second later he was making his way past broken glass and various other things to the large full sized mirror which was already smashed. Had they already found the secret room? Was the King already dead? He dived into thousands of broken reflections, all showing him the one thing he hated above all else: himself.

The room beyond was bare apart from a few chairs, table, cupboard and bookcases. There were no painting of royalty on the wall, nothing to suggest that it was important. Except for the man in the chair, an ornate dagger clasped in his trembling hands.

"Arzei!" Albel shouted, running towards the King.

But it was too late. With one strong arm, his face determined and set, the King plunged the dagger into his heart.

"I'm…so sorry…I couldn't…save…the kingdom…" he breathed before he slumped forward in the seat, blood dripping onto the wooden floor and seeping into the cracks.

Albel froze, falling to his knees beside the King. How could this have happened? Throughout his life he had seen Arzei as almost immortal, perhaps not as firm as a King should be, but nevertheless, he seemed somehow indestructible. He had been around since he was a child, he had grown up knowing him as the King and ruler of Airyglpyh – how could such a man die? Yes, he had his weaknesses, but he seemed above everything, like a figurehead, someone that was never really real, something higher.

"….how…" Albel whispered aloud, dipping a long finger in the deep crimson of Arzei's blood. At that moment the secret door gave way, the wood and glass splintering above the weight of many bodies. He turned to see the mob pour into the room, squeezing through the narrow entranceway like worms may squeeze through a hoop. They stopped, swords and weapons still raised, and looked towards the King. One, most likely the leader, came forward, towards Arzei, his sword pointed at the dead man. Albel stood up, claw poised to attack, but the man merely walked through him, as if he was nothing more than a faint breeze.

"He's dead…" the man stated, turning to the others. Suddenly the entire building was filled with shouts of "the King is dead!" which spread equally as quickly to the streets of Airyglyph, where people looked up who did not share the same view as the rioters and shook their heads in dismay.

He didn't know how long he knelt at the King's feet, watching as the blood slowly became darker and seeped into the wood, drying and crusting. He didn't know how long his thoughts deserted him, how long a complete feeling of desolation and worthlessness consumed him. He didn't notice the mobs slowly disperse from the room, each one coming to look at the man they branded traitor and coward. He didn't even notice when Romero entered the secret chamber and stood next to him.

"You cared for him, hmm?" the demon mused quietly. Albel was finally snapped out of his stupor, turning around swiftly to burn his crimson orbs into Romero's.

"Care? Are you mad? He was the King, the ruler of Airyglyph. Was it not my duty as Captain of the Black Brigade to protect his life?" there was desperation laced into his voice as he balled his fist tightly.

"You would not have knelt so long at his feet if you had not cared. The worst thing you can do is lie to yourself,"

"Shut up, maggot!" he lunged up towards Romero, for the first time actually catching him off guard and sending him sprawling to the ground. The demon emitted a short gasp as the enraged swordsman landed on top of him, claw darting towards his neck. But Romero had regained his senses and grabbed the metal claw by the wrist in once swift move, stopping it only centimetres above his perfect face. He smiled up at Albel before yanking the claw right off. The Captain of the Black Brigade screamed, as the metal attaching it to the stump of his arm ripped off the flesh, causing several bloody gashes to appear.

"I think it best that this goes," he said mockingly, throwing it across the room and hurling Albel off him. He looked down at the raven haired man, clutching at what was left of his arm and trying to stop the seeping blood from the gashes the claw had left.

"I told you I would hurt you if you disobeyed me…if only you had listened…"

"You…slime…" Albel breathed as he frantically eyed the room searching for his claw.

"You won't find it," the demon said flatly. The swordsman looked at him, an intense hatred in his fiery eyes.

"What is it you want from me?" he breathed. Romero smirked.

"Quite simple, I wish for you to help me take over this land,"

"W-What…?" Albel couldn't believe what he was hearing. If Romero truly was a God then he was truly insane.

"The King is dead, Albel. Airyglyph is in chaos and will soon crumble like it's monarchy. Aquaria…well, with time it will come to the same fate. The time of mortals is over, on this planet anyway,"

"….How could a raving lunatic like you ever have become "King of the Dead"? Albel mused, darting the demon a mocking smirk.

"I should hurt you for that…but it seems pain does not teach you anything. Perhaps you even like it," Romero looked at him quizzically before continuing. "I propose to change this planet into a larger area for the dead, for the souls that linger between the transaction to a new life and those who plainly do not deserve to live again,"

"You mean those speechless zombies you had attack me earlier?"

"If you wish to call them that, then yes,"

"You want me to help you turn _my_ world into a festering pit of putrid flesh?! What absurdity! As much as most of the people on this planet are worthless scum, you cannot wipe them all out. They are needed as workers, as mindless soldiers, to do menial tasks that those with brains will not,"

"Haha, there will be no need for workers or soldiers, Albel. It will be an extension of my realm,"

"…." Albel couldn't believe he had wound up in such a mess. How could he participate in something like this? Airyglyph was his home, he was born in Kirlsa, grew up with the people of this planet. As much as he despised most of them, how could he condemn them all to death? He may be known as "Albel the Wicked" but he had a sense of justice – and those who were innocent should not be harmed, there was no sense or reward for it. Harming those that did not need to be harmed only resulted in a bad reputation, in unwanted hassle. The thought of wiping out an entire world population almost made him sick beyond his lust for blood.

"So are you agreeing to aid me?"

"Do you think I would put myself down to your despicable level? You think I would help you kill of the entire population of Elicoor? Kill the people I once tried to protect? What kind of maggot are you? And how dare you even ask me such a ridiculous question!" he spat. Romero's expression changed from placid to one of complete embitterment in the space of merely a few seconds.

"You took the vow to obey me! I saved you from a much deserved torturous death, and this is the way you treat me?!" he roared, his voice almost shaking the room. Albel finally got to his feet, ignoring the pain in his arm and the throbbing in his ears.

"I wish only for the continuation of all life in all realms, that is my job. And yet you try so hard to hinder me! If you do not do as I order I shall make you another of my tongue-less servants, forever doomed to wander in darkness seeking only a release from the eternal misery you shall endure!" Romero almost blew the swordsman back with the velocity of his voice. Albel had never seen the demon this angry, or to be more specific – furious. Fear welled up within his gut, threatening to make his legs give way, but he prevailed, still standing to face the King of the Dead.

Romero waved his hands and Albel experienced that suspended nothingness that he had previously when they entered Airylgyph beside the Aqueducts. A second later (or it could have been a millennium) he was back in the bedroom, with Romero beside him. The anger had faded slightly from his pale features, however, his blood red rubies still glowed fiercely.

"So, you wish to become another speechless puppet, eh?" he snarled, moving close enough to Albel that their bodies almost touched. "Perhaps it wouldn't be a bad idea after all. That tongue of yours really gets on my nerves sometimes…"

"And you think yours is any better?"

A long hand struck the side of his face, making it burn with stinging pain.

"I have gathered you like the feel of pain. Perhaps it is the only pure and complete thing in your life,"

_What…? The bastard thinks he can pry into my subconscious now. Stupid worm…And since you can hear this, I'll let you know – I can take any pain you give me and I won't change._

"Ooh? We'll see about that…" Romero hissed, grabbing Albel by his injured arm and throwing him towards the bed. He was upon him in a moment, pressing him elbows into his shoulders painfully. He tried to struggle, but of course, it was no use against the strength of a God. He could see the pity drained from Romero's eyes; now only a pure, feral, anger dominated them.


	9. Chapter 9

I am so sick of those damn smiley faces that screech "HELLOOO" every bloody time you accidentally run your mouse over them! Whoever invented them should be executed on site and such torturous advertising should be made taboo!

Heh, just a random rant.

**Chapter 9**

Romero glared down at the mortal beneath him. Albel was thrashing wildly, his ebony locks strewn across his perfectly formed face like broken branches of an autumn tree. Blazing eyes bore up into his skull as various words of abuse were screamed in his face. But Romero was getting accustomed to such tantrums from the swordsman, it was that rebellious streak that made the man who he was after all – Albel the Wicked. He laughed at the struggling figure beneath him. He had finally come across someone he could not defy and it amused Romero greatly. However, he could only be amused for so long before it began to grate on his nerves. Straddling his waist, the demon punched him hard on the face. The continuous flow of curses halted momentarily as the pain registered in Albel's brain and he blinked a few times, scrunching up his eyes where the offending fist had struck. Romero didn't want to disfigure him, after all, it would be a waste of a good body. The punch hadn't broken his nose and would at most give him a slight black eye, nothing to seriously hinder him. The welcomed silence did not last long however before Albel spat in his face, snarling like a caged animal. Romero had to admit, the man's persistence was admirable. He sighed through grated teeth.

"How long _will_ you struggle for? You must have incredible energy," he mused, smirking down at the young man. Albel glared up at him, still trying to wriggle out of his grasp.

"As long as it takes to grind you into the dirt!" he spat. Romero laughed at the acidity in his voice. Pinning him firmly down the demon lunged for his neck, sinking his perfect teeth into the pale flesh. A shudder ran through Albel's body as the demon pierced the skin, feeling the blood spill into his mouth like a flow of lava. He sucked at the warm liquid, tasting the distinct pang of a newly dead. It was still there…that unmistakable after-kick of life, although it was slowly fading. The blood would soon run cold, evaporating from the body like water to the heavens. Romero was determined to make most of it before that occurred. The swordsman whimpered, his resistance growing weak.

He finally pulled away, lips glistening with rich crimson. Albel lay limp beneath him, his breathing almost unnoticeable. Romero smiled, his hands carefully undoing the belt that fastened the swordsman's robes.

Crimson eyes opened a slit, trying to focus on the demon. He let out a gasp for air, his arm limply trying to rise of the bed but to no avail. What had Romero just done to him? He tilted his head, feeling a soft throbbing pain. It was a blur, he wasn't sure if he had experienced extreme agony or extreme ecstasy. He felt his robes coming loose of his body, like tendrils of silk sweeping across his skin. He wanted to speak but couldn't, words seemed incomprehensible to him. Suddenly the strangest thing occurred; he burst out laughing. It wasn't a laugh meant for anything or anyone, it wasn't over joy or sadness or desperation or delight. He laughed hysterically, his body buzzing and tingling with new found electrical marvel. He didn't even realise he was doing it until the sound hit his eardrums, loud and deranged.

He was silenced however when he felt a sharp pain around his nipple. Opening his eyes as wide as he could he noticed Romero leaning down on him, mouth covering the painful area. He gasped as he felt his skin split under the pressure of sharp teeth. This time he was more aware of the feeling. It wasn't painful, nor pleasurable. In fact it eradicated everything from his mind; all his pains, worries, memories, joys, everything…gone…

It was a beautiful sensation. Complete detachment.

He groaned softly as he felt the blood being drained further from his body. Then finally Romero pulled away, leaving him dazed and delirious. A smooth, cool hand slithered across his cheek, to the sharp angle of his jawbone.

"...What…are you doing…to me?" he murmured, barely audible. Through the haze he thought he saw Romero smirk as the hand made its graceful descent down his thin torso, brushing lightly over his hips before resting firmly upon his thigh. He tried to fathom what was happening, but his mind seemed elsewhere, on another plane of existence. A plane of existence where that beautiful tingling feeling never ended. He felt weight come down on top of him and his legs being yanked apart. He briefly felt something against his lips like the whispering breath of a ghost. And then he was rammed further into the bed, his body feeling as though it was being split in two, unable to accommodate the size of the foreign appendage. He might have screamed, he didn't know for sure but at some point a hand was clamped firmly over his mouth. The assault was relentless, it seemed that with every agonizing thrust it went deeper. Somewhere Romero's voice echoed, husky and breathless, but he couldn't make out if he was saying something or if it was just groans of pleasure. The demon grabbed his legs and wrapped them around his muscular waist, thrusting faster and harder, intent, it seemed, upon severing him in two. He distantly felt his body trying to object but there was nothing he could do. He wasn't part of it, he was someplace else, someplace he never wanted to come down from.

_I remember a time when I was young, when I wanted to live. I would look at the picture of mother every night in father's room, when he hadn't yet returned from his duties. He didn't want me ever to see her…I never knew why, he died before I got the chance to ask. But she was beautiful. She had green eyes unlike my own and raven black hair bundled into pleats around her head. I used to wonder if I would ever look like her…_

_Father never spoke of life before I was born. I knew he blamed me for her death, although he would never admit it in front of me. I rarely saw him much, he was always away and when he was home all we ever did was train. He trained me until I passed out, relentless in his pursuit of perfection. I wasn't born as the son he wanted and I never would be…but he tried…and I don't blame him. Back then I was innocent, shielded from the horrors of reality. What I wouldn't do to get back that innocence, that ignorance._

_I recall my slow decline from when he died. No only did people dislike me, I despised myself, and nothing has changed. I stopped eating, growling sickly, locked in my room for days on end, drowning myself in pain. Most of the scars on my body were self-inflicted, I was forever trying my tolerance of pain. Perhaps…I also wanted to make sure I was still alive…_

_If none of that had happened, then I wouldn't be the chaotic mess I am today. Some people seem to have things so damn easy and they do nothing with their live…I wanted to change things, to make my homeland a better place. I never succeeded. And somehow…somehow it doesn't matter anymore. Here there is no future, there is no past, there is no present. Perhaps my destiny was to bow down to a greater being, aid in plans to ruin my planet. The planet that caused me so much misery…the people who never really accepted me for the person I was. _

_I will not fade like watercolour in the sun, like the memories people have of my mother and father. I will not go down in blaze, in the heat of glory. I will remain…like a permanent stain upon the earth…I am not finished yet…_

Pain.

It was consuming, engulfing, overwhelming. Pain. Everywhere. Albel groaned, gingerly moving his fingers. It felt like he had been put through a blender from the inside out. His head pounded, his vision was blurred. Where was he? Rubbing his eyes, he blinked, making out several objects: bedposts, dresser, window…He attempted to sit up but pain assaulted his spin like acid. As his eyes began to focus he made out dried blood on the sheets, on his chest and his inner thighs. What had happened? He again attempted to rise, gritting his teeth through the pain. He recognised the throbbing from his backside, he has experienced it before…but never as bad as this…

Then he remembered.

It was a vague, distorted memory. Like a feather drifting through his mind that he could not grasp. _…What the hell did he do to me?_ He examined the bite marks around his nipple. A blue hue had tainted the pale flesh around the injury, however, the punctures didn't seem to have clotted. He touched it and pulled his hand away, suddenly afraid at the lack of blood.

"What am I…?" he said slowly. The same occurred with his neck: open punctures yet no blood. He felt panic overcome him tried to get off the bed too quickly. He fell to the hard, black, marble floor, feeling as though part of his insides had torn. He hissed with the discomfort, afraid to move.

He remembered something then. Romero had asked for his help…no, more like ordered him to help. It was a crusade for power, for domination over his own planet. How could he ever agree to something like that? All the people he had ever known, all the faces he had seen, all those he had never seen, everything would be gone. What did Romero want: oblivion?

He felt degraded, drained. There was no way out. Nothing he could do it seemed. How could he defeat a God? He was nothing more than an apparition, a memory of the man that had been known as Albel the Wicked. Even when he had been alive he had failed to defeat the King of the Dead.

It was then that the only door to the bedroom; an ornate black slab, opened. He glanced up, seeing the demon glide effortlessly into the room. He was dressed in white silk robes, adorned with abstract runes, which flowed like a stormy sea behind him.

"You are conscious," he stated, stopping in front of the fallen swordsman. For once Albel could not find words to say. He looked down to the ground, ashamed to look the demon in the face, afraid that his anger might make him explode right there and then. Romero seemed to sense this, like he appeared to know everything else inside Albel's head, and dropped down to a crouch.

"Have you given it anymore thought?" he asked, staring directly at Albel. _That's all the maggot cares about, some ludicrous crusade for power! And he thinks I will willingly help him…after what he did to me?! If only I had my strength…_

"Help me and I shall return your strength, Albel,"

"And if I don't?" the swordsman said bluntly. The King of the Dead sighed, anger rippling over his perfect features.

"You still resist me? After everything I have put you through?" he said more to himself than to the spent man before him.

"I have never been impressed by anyone or anything as much as I have you. I thought mortals were easily broken, like flimsy leaves in a wind…but you prove me wrong,"

"Good…"

With two strong arms Romero lifted the lithe swordsman up off the ground and carried him towards the door.

"Where are we going?" Albel asked half-heartedly, too tired to care.

"To prepare,"

Albel looked up at him, "For what?" he asked.

"For an event that will change history,"

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Reviews? Ideas? Comments? Inspiration? Hate?


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